How to Marry an Earl (A Cinderella Society 1)

Persephone laughed. “Meg, every potted plant in every house in the county has been home to discarded ribbons at some point or another. I have a chest full of them at home. You can tie it around Jupiter’s ankle. We’ll say it was an offering.”

She shook her head. “It was kind of her to think of me.” She touched the ribbon. “I can use it with a different dress.”

“I do like this one.” Meg wore a white gown with a tulle-overdress in burgundy. Pink strawberries were embroidered from neck to hem, accented with spangles.

“I remember the dress,” Priya said. “But not the strawberries. Did you stitch them yourself?”

“I did.”

“It must have taken an age.”

“It did,” she agreed.

“Your uncle still refuses to buy you new gowns, I see.”

“Priya,” Persephone said when Meg’s smile tightened.

“She’s not wrong,” she said softly. “But I don’t mind. I like to embroider.”

“I mind,” Priya muttered under her breath. Persephone nudged her with her elbow.

“I want you all to know I did not push Sir Eugene Jones into the blackberry bushes,” Tamsin announced, joining them. “Even though he is odious.”

“And he’s coming this way.”

Tamsin groaned. “Do you see the trouble that comes when I restrain myself?”

“Jones is convinced that his sister Ivy ought to be Countess Northwyck,” Priya told Persephone. “She’s over there pretending to be one of the statues.”

“Wonderful.”

“Never mind him,” Priya said dismissively. “He’s afraid of me.”

“And now me as well,” Tamsin put in helpfully.

“Is he?” Persephone couldn’t imagine anyone giving Priya or Tamsin the cut direct or making snide comments about them behind their fans. She couldn’t imagine either of them caring one bit, more to the point. Persephone didn’t care as much as the Ton wanted her to, but it was still mildly humiliating to know the comments Conall would hear about her.

More gentlemen followed after Eugene, a collection of white cravats, arrogant smiles, and polished Hessian boots. There was nowhere left to hide.

Conall scanned the area, his gaze lingering when he spotted her. He smiled warmly and bowed to her from the other end of the Avenue. He looked happy to see her. She knew it was part of the act. The tingling sensation suddenly warm in her belly, did not.

When he moved toward her, a blush crept up her neck. She couldn’t help it. She’d never been the center of that kind of attention, of that kind of smile, full of secrets and private amusements. She knew the only secrets between them were state secrets, but the others saw more. Amused whispers swirled. Before Conall could reach them, the duke called him over. He sent Persephone a wink, barely there. She tried to hide her answering smile.

Eugene trotted toward them, breaking the eye contact between Persephone and Conall. She probably shouldn’t dislike the poor fellow on that account.

Not when he presented so many other reasons to choose from.

He bowed smartly to Priya, while snapping his fingers at his sister to attend to him. Having no sense of self-preservation, he did not notice the matching narrowing of the eyes as Priya and Persephone looked up at him. “Ladies, a pleasure.”

“I’m sure it is,” Priya said with the kind of sweetness that ought to have warned him, but only succeeded in setting his shoulders back proudly. When he hovered, Priya sighed loudly. “Lady Persephone, may I introduce Sir Eugene Jones. Sir Jones, Lady Persephone.”

“And Ivy Jones,” Priya added when his sister reached them, looking dreadfully uncomfortable. “Hello, Ivy. It’s lovely to see you.”

“And you,” she replied softly. She was lovely, pink cheeks, dark hair, all curves.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Eugene said with fake joviality. “Nabbed yourself an earl, did you?”

Ivy physically winced.